


New Obsession

by EarthsickWithoutYou



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Biting, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 22:03:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15715977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarthsickWithoutYou/pseuds/EarthsickWithoutYou
Summary: Lorca finds Michael crying one night and comforts her...thoroughly.





	New Obsession

Lorca sat in his favorite shadowy corner of the mess hall, where he could look out into the stars undisturbed, finish his whiskey in peace and darkness. But just as he was setting the half-empty glass back down on the table he heard a strange sound emanating from the dim room behind him. 

Lost in his thoughts and plotting, he believed he had been alone for quite some time now after leaving the bridge to Saru and entering the abandoned cafeteria to consider matters without the discomfort which being in the other Lorca’s ready room or quarters imposed. Here, he could breathe. He was still an imposter but he wasn’t violating his double’s personal space with the masquerade. It was a guilt-free respite. But hell, who was he kidding? The fact that he felt guilt at all was a seriously bad sign he was going soft over these dumb Starfleet kids and their rules, regulations and aw shucks moral high ground. That was far scarier than the way it felt to inhabit another man’s life and lie about it for months on end.

He could lose himself here to this bizarrely enticing fantasy of being that Lorca, the good one, the kind one…the one who actually believed everyone deserved the same level of respect. He couldn’t afford it…and what the hell was that sound?

He rose and walked away from his perch near the window, to where the lighting went from near pitch black to merely dim. “Michael?” he murmured, noticing her sitting at a table alone, crying her eyes out in front of a mug of green tea. As soon as he spoke, her own illusion of solitude was shattered and she startled, wiping her eyes, her cheeks reddening.

“I’m sorry, Captain,” she said in a wobbly voice, standing up as he waved at her to sit back down immediately. “I thought I was alone.”

“Well, you’re not,” he said with a gently ironic smile, sitting down beside her at the table. Watching her continue swiping at the tears which had left wet trails all over her beautiful, smooth skin, he added reflectively, “I promise.”

She gave him a questioning, suspicious glance, the kind in which she specialized, or maybe they were tailor-made for him. Then she blew her nose into a napkin and folded it neatly beside her mug, folding her shaking hands in a formal posture.

Lorca’s forehead creased and he rubbed his thumb against his lips as he watched her, trying to figure out this beguiling mystery known as Michael Burnham. Her double had never quite transfixed him or challenged him in this way, despite his deep affection for her. It was somehow, impossibly something entirely new, getting to know this Michael with her pride and her honor, her unflappable dignity and unstoppable kindness. The cleverness and strength in her were familiar, but there were layers beyond that, things he wanted to know more about. Qualities in her that made him want to be the other Lorca, if he was honest with himself.

“Don’t give me that look, Burnham,” he quipped drily, “I may be surly and unreasonably demanding…”

She quirked an eyebrow and he rolled his eyes, sighing before he added, “And sometimes downright cold and rude, but I can still be there for one of my officers when they’re upset. Don’t write me off without giving me a try.”

Michael examined her hands, pondering his words. “Surly, unreasonably demanding, downright cold and rude: yes.” She looked at him dead in the eyes and his heart skittered. “Yet you are never any of those things to me. Why is that, Captain?”

“I’ll tell you all about it, but first tell me why you’re sitting in the dark crying into your tea,” Lorca requested, stalling but genuinely curious about her despair. Maybe there really was something he could do to help.

“I suppose…” she bit her lip, giving into the temptation to confide in him. After all, he had always been there for her, even if he was a strange enigma and the sort of wartime Captain you followed knowing he might win the whole conflict but you’d all potentially be left morally scarred in the aftermath. Even if. Michael thought there was more to Lorca than the tunnel-visioned warrior, but she couldn’t put her finger on why she felt that way or cared so much.

Clearing her throat, she continued thoughtfully, “I suppose sometimes it just hits me all over again. I threw my whole career away on a reckless gambit to save my former Captain.” She couldn’t even say Georgiou’s name now; it hurt too profoundly. “Now she’s gone and I’m left rudderless, adrift, floating through space without oxygen just wracked with the guilt and knowledge of my own idiotic hubris. Context isn’t for kings, Captain; not when you indulge in it self-importantly to the exclusion of regulation and the better judgement of your superior officer. Not when you hold yourself above the rules…” She squeezed her eyes shut as more tears poured out and she sniffed, pressing the napkin briefly to her nose again as he rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

Michael’s slumped body stiffened; she sat bolt upright and looked at him as if he’d hit her with a surge of electricity, as if that one simple touch of his fingers was the biggest scandal since the Battle of the Binary Stars.

“You’re more than your one big mistake, Michael. We all are,” he surmised, wishing it to be true though really, he had no idea whatsoever when it came to his own trail of wreckage. But for Michael, yes. She was so much more than a mutineer; so much better and brimming with astonishing potential. How Lorca wished he could stay here with her on Discovery for the foreseeable future, continue this charade until he forgot who he started out being, and guide Michael, watch her bloom and become the officer he expected she couldn’t help being. He’d love her, even from the distant restraint of a mentoring role.

Still, the distance that ought to be there between them seemed unimportant in the automatic intimacy of the late hour, shadowy room and her outpouring of emotion, his vulnerable inner struggle. 

“You’re not even sure that’s true,” she laughed, bright berry lips parting into that wide grin he couldn’t get enough of. She hardly ever let go of her reserve like that, and certainly not with him.

He leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the table. “Why do you seem to see right through me, Michael Burnham?”

“Sometimes x-ray vision goes both ways,” she blurted without meaning to be quite so frank. He stared at her in wonderment and she gave into another smile before pressing her lips together shyly.

“Tell me,” he begged, resting his chin in his palm and his elbow on the table, fascinated by her every nuance. “What are you thinking?”

She turned to face him and he sat up straighter, dropping the thin facade of nonchalance under her keen observation. “I cannot say.”

“Come on! It’s the middle of the night, I’ve been drinking and you’ve been crying, all bets are off. Open up to me, Michael.” He smiled then, but it was a halting, bittersweet twitch of his lips. Lorca was afraid of surrendering to the honesty she elicited from him as easily as she probably could have gotten anything else she wanted if she would only ask him.

She gave him an inscrutable smile and picked up his whiskey glass, drowning the remaining contents as he looked at her unfazed. “Permission to speak freely, Sir?”

“I think that goes without saying, but sure,” he conceded.

“You have beautiful eyes,” Michael confessed, staring into them as her shoulders trembled. “Despite the damage they’ve endured or possibly, _probably_ because of it. And when you look at me like that, Captain…I feel safe.”

“ _My_ eyes?” Lorca shook his head, reaching out to brush away her next tear, stroking her cheek. Michael shivered at the feeling of his big rough fingers on her skin. “You’re one to talk.” He gazed into her big brown eyes and knew there was no time to consciously surrender. He was simply done for. In some incomprehensible twist of destiny, he belonged to her and there was no going back.

Michael covered his fingers with her own and looked at him uncertainly, then dragged his palm to her lips and kissed it. “I suppose that’s quite enough improper and outrageous behavior for one night,” she smiled. Running his fingers over her cheek again, his skin burning in the aftershock of her lips touching him, Lorca felt the flush in her face. 

“Don’t be so sure,” he drawled quietly, his thumb still stroking her skin slowly as he dipped his head towards hers tentatively, clearly angling his face to kiss her lips, giving her time to pull back, even push him away, whatever she wanted.

Michael cupped his face in her hand and leaned up to meet his kiss, pressing her warm, salty lips against his as he shuddered in pleasure. He murmured her name, kissing her again and again, slowly and tenderly, until his politeness undid her and she climbed into his lap. Lorca wrapped his arms around her, sliding one hand up to hold the back of her head as he kissed her deeply now, holding nothing back. He groaned as Michael opened her lips for him and their tongues brushed together, then she jerked her body gently against him, arousing him beyond measure. 

“We should stop,” she murmured as his lips trailed her neck, kissing her above the high collar of her plain uniform, but he nipped her softly and she moaned, bucking against his growing erection. “Captain—”

He could correct her, urge her to call him Gabriel, but something about her almost innocent pronouncement of his formal title at this moment turned him on and he couldn’t quite form the words. “Mmm?” He licked the spot on her neck which he’d bitten and she clasped his face in both hands.

“Not here,” she said throatily. 

“Let me walk you to your quarters,” he suggested lightly. She nodded, both of them understanding that this would give them time to cool off. Make the next decision with a clear head.

They walked side by side down the corridor, Lorca hoping his hard-on wasn’t too humiliatingly obvious in his damnably tight-fitting uniform. For her part, Michael tried not to look at that region of his body, not after feeling him pressed against her center, hard and needy.

As they reached her quarters, Michael turned to face him with a sheepish smile. “We took that “all bets are off” concept a little too far.”

“Mmm,” Lorca concurred a bit playfully, though his eyes were serious as he placed a hand on the wall beside the door and leaned into her body. “Why don’t we take it all the way? As far as it can go, you and me. If you want. Or I can walk away right now. You call it, Michael.”

She sighed at his proximity and looked around the empty hallway. “Come on,” she said impetuously, taking his hand and tugging him inside her room. 

They didn’t bother with the lights, stumbling back to the bed and kicking their boots off as his lips hungrily reclaimed hers and she sighed, “Gabriel.” He lifted her onto the bed and laid her down, slowly unpeeling her uniform from her lithe yet curvaceous body, then hurriedly shedding his own.

She nestled her head into the pillow and looked up at him with soft beseeching desire, then unfastened her bra and set it aside. Her chest rose and fall quickly with her chaotic breath as he looked at her breasts, swollen with desire for him, nipples rock hard. 

“No,” he said huskily, “Captain. Or Sir.” Lorca pressed her wrists into the bed and rested his body between her hips as she wrapped her legs around him, her ankles pressing into his back.

She made no objection to his bold request, but in her intelligent face within the shadows of the night he saw a flicker of reciprocal power. “Captain. Give yourself to me.”

He gasped, kissing her lips insatiably, rubbing his cock against her, nothing but his boxer briefs and her enticingly sweet cotton bikini panties between them now. He let go of her hands and they went around his neck, her soft, warm breasts crushed against his chest, her nipples sliding more roughly against him until he needed more of them. 

“Lie back,” he entreated, aqua eyes full of unrelenting, almost scarily intense craving for her body and soul. 

“Yes, Sir,” Michael answered meekly, taking pleasure in his dominance. He moved his own body down slightly so he could lean his face down and kiss each of her peaked nipples, the closed-mouth pecks making her wild until she frowned and scratched her nails down his back. “Please don’t tease me.”

“Bad girl,” he accused, though he obeyed her, parting his lips to take each of her nipples in turn into his mouth, holding the other breast and squeezing the soft fullness, grazing the nipple with his thumb. He sucked her raised bud attentively, then flicked his tongue around it, never ceasing with his ministrations on her other breast. “I might have to hold you down again if you’re going to get rebellious.”

“Good,” she retorted, her eyes closed as her chin tilted to the ceiling, the scent of her damp arousal starting to emanate intoxicatingly as he slid his body firmly against hers, grinding again, squeezing her breasts with infinite love and admiration before releasing them to grab her wrists, holding her as his biceps tightened with the strength of the motion.

“Just like that, baby?” He placed both of her wrists above her head so he could hold her with one hand while with his other, he slipped her panties down. As soon as she felt his intention, her legs fell from his back and accommodated him in unclothing her sopping heat. “Mmm. Yeah.” He grinned, kissing Michael’s mouth and sucking on her bottom lip as she moaned against his lips, her slickness already wetting the front of his underwear.

“Just like that,” he repeated, reaching down to pull his only remaining clothing off, only for Michael to take advantage of her momentary freedom, raking her fingers through his hair and then generously scratching his back again until he cried out in ecstatic frustration. “You’re out of control,” he murmured, unwinding her arms and slamming her wrists back down above her head. “That’s better.”

“Better, but still not good enough,” Michael urged, and in her eyes there was no pretense of teasing now. “Not until you fuck me, Sir.” The insane naughtiness of the situation made them both dizzily heated and he guided his cock to her entrance, sliding it up and down until it was coated in her juices.

“I didn’t get to taste you yet, baby,” he sighed, pushing his tip inside her pulsing walls as she cried out, her fingers wriggling in impatience for him to keep going. “Maybe we’re too impatient this time, but the night is young. I can’t even imagine how delectable you’ll be, when you feel this fucking good.”

He thrust in further and she grabbed onto his body hard with her legs, making it even easier for him to push his rigid, throbbing length in to the hilt. She was tight and dripping; he could never have imagined how perfect she would feel or how thoroughly he would lose himself to her. Lorca couldn’t feel the fear of the surrender anymore, which made him realize how long ago he must have actually ceded his heart to her. Maybe it was that first day, when he rescued her from the shuttle and she looked at him with so much confused, unwilling gratitude, such fear to trust anyone again, least of all herself. Now here they were, so implicitly trusting that every boundary of right or wrong melted away in the face of their irresistible bond.

“Yes,” Michael whimpered, his girth making her ache from her pussy out to her hips and stomach, “Yes, please, please…don’t stop, Captain.”

“Why not?” he begged her to tell him as he slid out and back in again, growling at the molten heat between them, her delicious cunt holding tight to his cock until he knew the urge to fuck her truly hard and deep was coming on stronger than ever.

“I need you,” she moaned, fingers going limp as he held her down and began pulling in and out, gradually building a rhythm. “Don’t bother trying to hold back. Give me everything you have.”

Lorca let go of her hands again so that he could press one against her face, kissing her mouth and matching his tongue’s glide against hers with the tempo of his cock thrusting inside her. Michael’s fingers sank into the back of his hair, exploring him more gently, her other hand pressing into his back and stroking his shoulder blade, then the top of his spine until he groaned loudly, something deep inside him snapping at her tenderness. She grabbed onto his ass, massaging it as he picked up speed, fucking her every bit as powerfully as he’d fantasized, but it was so much better, so much sweeter than any dream. Michael’s eyes rolled back and her mouth fell open as helpless breathy moans turned into squeals, her pussy clamping down on his cock as she cried out more loudly than ever and he exploded inside her, biting her neck and increasing the pleasure of both of their releases with that little bit of perfect pain.

“I don’t want you to cry alone anymore,” he said raggedly, his mouth still pressed against her neck, continuing to nibble at her skin as her hands held onto his back, neither of them wanting to part. Lorca went on and on, covering both sides of her neck with bite marks which he augmented with hard sucks at her skin until anyone could know she was his. 

_Good thing that uniform of hers has a nice, high collar._

But he would know what lay beneath and why.

“I’ll take care of you now,” he vowed, pulling his cock out of her reluctantly, watching her watch his face as he lifted it back over hers.

“Yes,” Michael said simply. 

“You need me to take care of you, baby?” Lorca sighed with a smile whose neediness he couldn’t begin to mask, tracing her face adoringly with his fingers. It wasn’t time to collapse into each other and snuggle the rest of the night away, though that time _would_ come. Neither one of them was remotely spent.

“Yes, Sir,” she answered, not understanding how she had come to feel so inextricably bound to him within such a short span of time. This older, conflicted, damaged Captain of hers…why couldn’t she help falling so desperately in love with him? Michael thought it probably didn’t matter anymore, whether she was vulnerable from her recent trauma, whether he was, too, from the war he’d already seen before they ever saw each other. She thought perhaps it wouldn’t have mattered, that whenever she’d met him, they would have ended up in the same place: together, drawn magnetically.

“Well, then, Michael Burnham,” he said with quiet firmness, his arousal reignited so easily that he knew the night was indeed young. “Your wish is my command.”


End file.
